The thinking sound of a wooden spoon in the pot
And the weak light in the living room we
All sat on the purple rug our raw bare legs
We traders and negotiators huddled, handling
Grimy playing cards like runes each others’
Secret-Secreted-Sacred wishes for each other
Standed on trees with purpose
And speaking ourselves bigger and
Beautiful-er with importance
In our network’d vines of a beautiful mind
Worth, necessary, serious, our lives depended,
Listen, I’m serious. My younger brother
Delivered a monologue about galaxies.
Respectfully I injected magic into it with
Two precious careful words settled then
decided them we, lulled
By nodding heads
We all headed out after supper we
Messy-headed dirty-handed brimming
Went away
For who knows a century
Or the length of a new sun a
Whole bible from a
Different universe’s world.
Tag: dark magic
I sensed a chorus underground
Lurched the shoes and smoke,
would break cathedrals in half
when it sounded up from the rock.
In a dirty limestone city of Christ
The underworldly plains rolled out
bruising skies, and birds the size
of men, who rattled in their clothes
The gems between their fingers
glittered like red stars from roofs
and opening the thick black dirt
grew and grew a quiet coliseum the
voices marching up
After curling inside the couch for
2.5 days I clicked your description
you were called a Black Witch Moth
polilla de bruja negra
and you were filling my whole room
the light was aimed at a dark glass
somewhere behind the white door
I prayed you away.
Ana Celeste Poetry 